Four Letter Words
by Hero's Chanson
Summary: Why were they even playing this stupid game? No matter what base they made it to — hell, they could hit a home run and steal all the bases in between — neither would change a damn thing of their hate-hate relationship in the morning. A few hours of mindless, regrettable fun with the grossest person in the world was exactly the snarled dilemma he needed.


The Musty Pug was a relic of the old west, a run-down tavern that didn't ask many questions, whose not-quite fresh lager was an acquired taste, whose patrons and bartenders were on a first-name basis, whose floors were covered in sawdust and a few patches of something sticky that Joey hoped wasn't vomit. As far as finesse went, the Pug failed in every way imaginable, as if it were trying, but it was intimate and ignorant of time's passage, the perfect haven for lotus eaters.

Joey hadn't really meant to start drinking, and especially not _there_, of all places. Damn irony. Seriously, how many times had he seen his old man slumped over the very bar he sat at now, still in the bewildered stage of drunk as he leaned on his son way more than a dignified grown man should all the way home? The walk back was always silent, and that never failed to inspire Joey with nervous hope that _this_ time would be different, _this_ time would be the last. And then the man would sink into his armchair in that characteristically pitiful way, and Joey could practically see it coming: the Adam's apple bob, the twitch of the back right hand muscles, the eyes darting left and right, the quick grab for the nearest object before it went airborne. The sheer routine of it would make Joey sigh out his relief as he ducked and listened to yet another mug or vase or remote crash against the wall.

"Get out," was always the feral command, the only one Joey never had trouble obeying.

He almost smiled at his drink at the memory of his past life, when card games were merely child's play. And then _that_ thought made him nearly groan. Instead, he gulped the shot in one go before slamming down the glass.

Yes, dueling had become as natural as breathing — that much he could not deny. Once he had released all inhibitions and set a goal, something attainable but always just out of reach, he discovered boundless reserves of strength and strategy. No, he wasn't the best, but he arguably made the top five — three? Well, five, at least. But what did it all mean?

Hours of formulating strategies, days of competing, weeks of traveling — what did it all mean? It couldn't be worthless. They had all learned so much, and that had to count for something. But once the bad guys were defeated, the demons vanquished, the prophecies fulfilled, what would it all mean? The sheer futility of perfecting his dueling was rearing its ugly head, and how much Joey wished he could push it back into nonexistence! In the near future, he'd have to get a job and prove his worth more tangibly, and all that dueling experience will have been for what? True, it had helped save the world once or twice, but that sure as hell wasn't a reliable (if any) source of income.

It'd be different if he profited from the game (or, more appropriately, the hype over the game), like Kaiba. Caught somewhere between a laugh and a growl, hand over racing heart and all, he had to swallow the instinctive urge to gag. He recalled their last exchange, with pairs of phrases like "jerk" and "second-rate duelist," "asshole" and "uncivilized," "ungrateful wretch" and "son of a bitch." If Yu-Gi hadn't intervened, they'd have been at each mother's throats.

And then Joey was struck by the sudden impression that if Yu-Gi hadn't intervened they really wouldn't have been. More deeply than that, without Yu-Gi, there would be nothing to fight over. It wasn't to say that he was the cause of the animosity, per se, but definitely a catalyst. If Yu-Gi never existed or, more realistically, if he and Joey had never been friends, then Joey and Kaiba probably would have been instead. Huh.

Joey braced himself in anticipation of a dry-heave at the thought, but was disappointed. He thought about it again. Friends with his favorite verbal jousting partner. Would it have been so bad?

Of course it would! He shook his head to dislodge the ludicrous thoughts and beckoned to the bartender for another shot. She was a young, short, busty — er, _bubbly_ — girl with enough smiles for the malcontent and disenfranchised and an irritatingly open aura that screamed "Talking will help you feel better." She was rare, Joey would never get another chance to speak freely without fear of criticism, and yet he didn't want to unload his burdens. Sure enough, she lingered a moment longer than she needed to, undoubtedly sensing Joey's mood, but merely shrugged and walked away. He gulped down the scorching liquid and felt a pleasant tingle creep up from his stomach to the base of his skull, releasing his vice grip on the troubles that gathered there.

He was about to lose himself to the feeling completely when he felt his cell phone vibrate. Oh yeah, cell phones exist; how quickly a straight-off-a-movie-set tavern could make you forget that. He flipped it open and automatically deleted what was undoubtedly yet another text from Tea. At this point, she sounded like a broken record (not a particularly difficult feat for her these days). It was always "Where are you? We're worried. Be careful," or some completely unoriginal variation of it. Joey chalked it up to muscle memory, the same mechanism that brought him to the Pug as soon as they had returned to the neighborhood.

He was about to put his phone away when it vibrated again. He flipped it open with more force than was necessary and almost pushed the delete button when the name of the sender caught his eye: Jerk Face. He still had Kaiba's number? There was something fundamentally wrong with that, but he was in no position to mull it over. Instead, he just opened the message and read it.

"Call your friends. They're annoying me."

Joey sniffed at the dry humor of it all. Seriously, of all the people they could ask to help look for him... "Same here. Tell Tea I'm at the Musty Pug." Send. He sighed. It was only a matter of time before he'd have to leave the solace of the timeless pub. He figured he had about twenty minutes more before Tristan showed up to reel him in and sober him up. Another vibration broke his self-pity.

"I'm not your messenger."

Joey sighed. He figured that with the same effort and fewer words Kaiba could have just told Tea where he was. No, this was just flat-out obstinacy. But he was in no mood to argue. "Fine." Send.

He opened a new text window meant for Tea, but couldn't bring his fingers to type the revelation of his location. It was like an admission of defeat, and to his buzzed mind there was no way he could have someone haul him out like some sick drunk fuck in front of all these lovely people and that amicable, rose-cheeked bartender. He was a man after all. He wouldn't drive, couldn't if he wanted to, so he wouldn't be a public menace. He'd just walk back to Yu-Gi's place, use the spare key, take a cold shower, and collapse on the sofa. Routine.

He munched away on pretzels and peanuts, willing them to chase away the alcohol so he could perform this all-important task that could make or break his manhood. Feeling ready at last, he put his phone back in his jacket pocket and made sure his keys hadn't fallen out before standing. The head rush he got made him sit back down with an "Oof."

Before he could try again, someone else entered the pub. "Wheeler," he said, as if confirming his identity to the guy next to him.

"Oh great," Joey groaned, recognizing Kaiba's voice immediately.

"Let's go," he said simply. Joey didn't know why, but he complied, leaving a few crumpled bills beneath his empty glass before following.

Hands in pocket, he fell silently into step beside Kaiba. Neither said a word — not that Joey minded, he'd rather talk to a brick wall, at least it would listen — until Joey noticed something.

"Hey, Yu-Gi's house is back there," he said, looking over his shoulder like he could see it.

"We're not going that way. I only stopped by because I was already heading in this direction." Back to silence.

"So where'm I gonna sleep?" He prided himself on his coherency; it would've sucked to be slurring his words in his present company.

"Your house is this way." It wasn't a question, just an admission of fact.

"How d'you know?"

"I know everything," Kaiba said with a hint of sarcasm to — oh, it was a joke.

"Typical," Joey said as he shook his head to hide his smile.

And more silence. Joey glanced around, his fear of unbidden memories traipsing through his mind unable to tame his curious eyes. Not much changed. The playground was just as barren, the swings just as creaky and rusted. The thirteenth lamppost still flickered in a two-one-three pattern. The sidewalk across from the deli was still crumbling into infinitesimal pebbles and concrete dust. The police still drove idly by, monitoring the still jagged streets. Weeds still peeked through the sidewalk cracks. Joey was hit with reluctant nostalgia as his childhood days pushed their way to the forefront of his mind, unabashed. He saw his younger self racing the other neighborhood boys to the corner, saw Serenity drawing hopscotch designs on the ground with her giant chalk, saw the community parents leaning on their fences and gates to watch their children and swap gossip and birthday invitations with each other. He saw another squad car pass and remembered how the children would stop and stare in awe while their parents shook their heads and wondered aloud where it was headed and who did what and why.

Kaiba carelessly kicked a pebble, and suddenly Joey was back in the awkward present. He looked around and this time tried to see everything fresh, as a newcomer would, to see what Kaiba saw. Only adjectives ran through his brain, most persistent of which were "broken" and "old" and "basic." Joey had never truly been ashamed and had no frame of reference, but he was positive that this was what it felt like. He wanted to step in front of Kaiba and demand that they head in the opposite direction, or at least throw a blanket over the streets to hide everything until he was sure he was alone.

Out of pure curiosity and against his better judgment, he glanced over at his silent companion. He almost sighed when he saw that Kaiba just looked forward with that normal façade of polite disinterest, as if he had seen all there was to see and accepted his environs' existence. Of course, that only filled Joey with greater curiosity: had Kaiba really seen this neighborhood before? He did say he was already headed in this direction...

"Where are you going?" he asked before he could stop himself. He really had to work on that.

"Home."

It was strange to think Kaiba had a home. It just seemed that he and his industries headquarters were one and the same, that he lived in his office. Joey laughed.

"What?"

"Nah, you wouldn't get it." Joey wiped away a stray tear and sighed. He realized that this was the most civil conversation he'd ever held with this man and briefly thought back to his mulling about Yu-Gi's absence. Maybe that theory had some credence to it after all. Huh.

They reached Dawson Drive. Joey jerked his head to the right to indicate they were turning. As per routine, Joey counted three doors down to his building and put the first, longer key in the main door. He threw it open triumphantly and turned Kaiba.

"Why don't you come in?" he said with practiced calm. "Least I could do." He shrugged in punctuation.

Kaiba thought it was a bad idea — Joey could tell from the way he tightened his jaw — but inevitably sighed and nodded his consent. He followed Joey inside and up to the second floor. Three more doors down, and Joey fitted the shorter key into the lock before revealing his humble abode. He flicked on the switch by the door and threw his coat on the couch without even looking. Muscle memory.

"Make yourself comfortable, I guess." Joey shrugged again. "Wanna drink?"

Kaiba shook his head.

"Whatever." Joey headed down the hall to his old bedroom, careful to avoid eye contact with the master bedroom across the hall. He stripped down to his boxers and started rummaging through his drawers for pajamas when the light bulb burst. "Son of a bitch!" he groaned to no one in particular.

"You called?" Kaiba said from down the hall with that same lightly humorous tone from earlier.

"No," Joey replied with a laugh. "But bring me a light bulb, will ya?"

He heard the springs of the couch creak. "Where are they?"

"Thought you knew everything." Pause. "Under the kitchen sink." While he waited, Joey grabbed a chair from the kitchen and climbed up it to unscrew the broken bulb with his shirt. Even so, his middle finger came into brief but searing contact with the bulb. "Shit!" He sucked on the finger and dropped the bulb on his bed.

"What happened to you?" It was the polite thing to ask, not necessarily what Kaiba wanted to say.

"Burnt my finger."

"You use that one too much anyway."

"Still got the other one, jerk." He showed it to him.

"Lovely." Kaiba handed him the bulb. "Wait," he said before flicking the switch off. "You're supposed to turn it off before you screw in a new one. But I forget, common sense eludes you."

Rolling his eyes, Joey screwed in the new bulb before nodding to Kaiba to flip the switch again.

"Voila."

"So it only takes_ one_ Wheeler to change a bulb," Kaiba said with a satisfied nod. "Gotta remember that next time someone asks."

Joey bit back his automatic retort, convincing himself he didn't care. He climbed down from the chair and tried to drag it back to the kitchen, but Kaiba deliberated a moment longer than he should have, and they made eye contact. He had the sudden and ephemeral feeling that something finally clicked, something finally made sense, but it was just as quickly replaced by the self-conscious realization that he was almost naked. He turned to hide his blush and returned the chair to its table.

When he went back to his room, Kaiba was sitting on the edge of his bed, coat discarded haphazardly behind him. Joey sighed and pushed him off.

"Stay as long as you want," he said as he crawled under the covers, "but I'm going to bed."

He lay on his side and waited for the sound of decisive movement. Then he felt the pressure of another body on him, and he turned to lie on his back. To say he was surprised wouldn't be entirely true, but he tried his best to feign shock and anger and it came out sounding like tired.

"What're you doing?"

"You know, I hate you so much." Kaiba leaned forward to gently but firmly pin Joey's wrists above his head.

"I know. I hate you, too. And the sky is blue." Joey tried (and failed) to shrug, but the meaning wasn't lost on the other.

"But you don't understand. My hatred for you burns through my veins." He leaned down more and added quietly, "I have to show you." He pressed his lips to Joey's none too softly and bit his lower lip.

Of course, Joey's initial response was to fight him off, but his stubbornness only fueled the struggle for dominance and made him bite harder until Joey gave in. Joey sighed and admitted defeat while plotting revenge.

Kaiba pulled away. "Fight back," he said before leaning again for another kiss but nicely this time. It actually felt good, and Joey easily parted his lips in preparation. Kaiba pulled away again. "I said fight back."

Joey's patience was running thin. Why were they even playing this stupid game? No matter what base they made it to — hell, they could hit a home run and steal all the bases in between — neither would change a damn thing of their hate-hate relationship in the morning. A few hours of mindless, regrettable fun with the grossest person in the world was exactly the snarled dilemma he needed to distract him from his nihilistic thoughts from the hour before, but Kaiba just had to ruin it with complicated rules and shit, as usual.

Joey raised an eyebrow, inviting him to try again. Kaiba lowered himself slowly and initiated another kiss. Again, Joey was surprised by how gentle it was. He lost himself in the tingly sensation and completely forgot his predetermined mission.

Kaiba pulled back again. "Seriously. If you don't start fighting back, I'm just going to leave and let you deal with this —" he brushed Joey's half erect penis ever-so-lightly — "by yourself."

The temptation, the promise of reward was too great. Joey shuddered at all that those words could imply before tugging Kaiba into a fourth and final attempt. This time, Joey kept his wits about him and matched Kaiba's tongue with his own in an even battle for dominance. He could feel Kaiba smile and took that as a good sign, especially since he didn't break away again. Using this as an incentive, Joey got one of his hands free and started removing the layers of fabric separating their bodies. The sheets were first to hit the floor, followed closely by Kaiba's shirt and pants. Joey's free hand traced a line from Kaiba's face, down his chest and stomach, to the hem of his boxers.

Kaiba stopped him and broke away to smile mischievously at him.

"Gonna make me fight for this, too?" Joey said with the slightest bit of exasperation.

"But of course."

Unwilling to put up with the teasing, Joey tried to tug at the fabric, but Kaiba's grip remained true. Again, Joey's patience began wearing thin. He twisted and shifted to get a better angle to achieve his goal. Meanwhile, Kaiba began moving his hands southward with the same intentions, and it became yet another competition: who could make the other lose his pants first.

"I win again, Wheeler," Kaiba said triumphantly as he continued pulling Joey's boxers past his knees and ankles before tossing them aside.

In Joey's defense, he was a very close second. He imitated Kaiba's motions and waited. Slowly, Kaiba lowered himself onto Joey's lap so their bare erections were barely touching. The light, casual, occasional brushes were driving Joey insane with a need something to plunge himself into.

Struck by inspiration, Joey pulled Kaiba in for another, albeit sloppy, kiss, drawing instinctively to the other's warmth. He broke away this time, continuing his trail of kisses down to Kaiba's neck. He bit and teased the skin there until Kaiba shuddered and issued what was almost certainly a moan. Joey smirked before he shoved Kaiba's head down almost painfully so his lips closed around the head of Joey's penis. Kaiba laughed, sending vibrations through Joey's hypersensitive cock to the pit of his stomach.

"I — win this one, jerk," Joey managed to say.

Kaiba made a sound of mock approval, sending another ripple of pleasure through Joey's body. He slowly took more of Joey's length into his mouth until he had it all. Though he didn't move his head, Joey could feel him sliding his tongue around in the most agonizingly scintillating manner possible.

"Damn it, Kaiba," he said huskily. He grabbed Kaiba's hair and pulled, then pushed, setting a fantastic rhythm for himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Joey was astonished that Kaiba let him. Ah, the spoils of victory.

Eventually, Joey relinquished his hold on Kaiba's hair and almost laughed when he continued at the same pace on his own. He felt his body tense up, felt Kaiba quicken his pace as Joey neared his release.

"I'm gonna —"

But before he could finish his sentence, Kaiba stopped and sat up straight. He smiled through bruised pink lips that Joey was yearning to taste. "The score is two to three. Guess that means I'm topping."

"What?" Joey pouted. "You didn't say it was best two outta three."

"Would it have mattered?"

"No," Joey mumbled. He looked up at Kaiba and awaited instruction.

Kaiba pushed him onto his back and put Joey's right leg over his shoulder. He aligned the head of his cock with Joey's entrance, smearing it and the head with precum. With no word of caution whatsoever, he pushed in, slowly but steadily.

"God damn it," Joey said through grit teeth. He gripped the sheet beneath him as if he'd blow away without it and tried to ignore his body's shouts of "Wrong way!" as Kaiba filled him.

Once he was up to the hilt, Kaiba just stood there, as if waiting for Joey to make up his mind between pleasure and pain. On the one hand, there was something gratifying about having an orifice so completely filled. On the other, it hurt like a _motherfucker_. A hole doesn't just go from small to very large with no kind of preparation! It just wasn't natural. It was then that Joey understood the nature of these little shenanigans. It wasn't about accommodations; it was about how much each could take from the other before he caved. Well, Joey wasn't going to give the smug bastard the satisfaction of winning yet another challenge. He lay absolutely still, silently inviting Kaiba to move.

And move he did. With each thrust, the searing pain diminished marginally, though Joey was determined to maintain his poker face until it had all gone completely. It didn't take very long. He sighed in relief when the friction stopped sending red alerts through his body and focused on the manly but uncivilized grunts Kaiba was making: that was something he'd want to think about for a while.

Undoubtedly noticing that Joey had relaxed considerably, Kaiba leaned forward slightly, concentration written across his face. He took smaller thrusts and changed his angle until he felt it — Joey's choked gasp of pure bliss. Smiling, he stayed in that position and thrust harder and deeper, seeming to feed off of every gasp and little noise Joey made.

Kaiba pressed his lips to Joey's ear. "How does it feel, Wheeler, knowing I can take anything from you, even your orgasms." He stopped suddenly, and Joey all but whined for him to continue. "See?" He laughed breathily.

Joey was fed up and a tad insulted. He wrapped his legs around Kaiba's waist and flipped over so that he was riding him. He rolled his hips forward and back to regain the lost momentum.

Kaiba laughed. "I've never seen this much fight in you."

"You just don't pay attention."

"Perhaps." Kaiba sat up and grabbed Joey's hips, making each thrust deeper. After a few, he held him there as he released his load inside Joey.

Joey prepared to dismount and squeeze out his own release, but Kaiba kept him where he was. He leaned forward until Joey was on his back again and thrust hard and quick against Joey's prostate until he painted them both in white.

Panting, they just looked into each other's eyes before kissing sloppily, releasing all the left over tension until neither had any fighting spirit left. Finally, Kaiba withdrew from Joey and started collecting his stuff. Joey picked up his blankets and loosely wrapped them around himself before lying down. He watched Kaiba dress through half-lidded eyes.

Having put on everything else, Kaiba looked from his shirt to his stomach to Joey. "I should make you lick this off," he said with no more force than a preemptive threat.

Joey considered shrugging, but Kaiba's comment reminded him of something. "Hey," he said, "why did you keep going?"

Kaiba paused briefly before putting on his shirt despite the mess. "What?"

"You kept going. You waited until I —"

"I'm not a complete despot, Wheeler," he replied, cutting Joey off. He punctuated the remark by dramatically throwing on his coat and walking to the door. "I still hate you."

"The sky is blue. Just be ready for payback."


End file.
